Landsliding

By Mandy Jameson

We all have secrets, but some of our secrets are darker than others...When Julia's husband leaves her, and their small son Matty, to live with another woman, her friends especially Caroline and Vick rally round to help. But when Julia starts a new relationship after a chance meeting, her friends are not quite as supportive.Julia sees Brendan, the quietly spoken IT guy who comes round to fix her computer, as a loving and protective man and as time passes a potential father figure for Matty. Caroline and Vick, on the other hand, see him as jealous, controlling and potentially dangerous. He appears to be a man with a secret past.What her friends don't know is that Julia has secrets of her own and, if they get out, they will almost certainly shatter her fragile domestic bliss.Landsliding is a compelling drama that turns your expectations on their head with a subtle twist to leave you wondering where your sympathies truly lie.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lightning Books
• Release date: Apr 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781785632105

Mandy Jameson

Originally from Manchester, Mandy Jameson spent ten years living in southwest France where Landsliding, her first novel, was written with the encouragement of a prolific writing group. Now settled in Sussex with her daughter, her passions include football, chocolate and walking on the Downs.

Book preview

36

PROLOGUE

When Harry left us I convinced myself that the worst had happened. But I’d got it wrong. His betrayal was only the prologue to what came next, like those first few rumbles of a landslide before the wildly chaotic, tumbling rush downhill.

CHAPTER 1

JULIA

Harry and I had been together for 17 years by the time he left. We met as students — in the days when my hair hung down to my waist and he was an optimistic dreamer — before the reality of adulthood took its chance to intervene.

He started out with the belief that life could be simple, free and easy, yet ultimately our London existence ended up crushing those beliefs. His innocence seemed to get buried alive among the big city pressures — I suppose it’s hard to retain a youthful idealism in the midst of the rat race.

But I’m not defending him. To leave a six-year-old is unforgivable, especially when that child dotes on you as much as Matty did. So how could Harry let down his little boy so badly? To disappear like that, out of the blue, with no goodbye?

I came home one gloomy February afternoon — a week after Matty’s birthday — to find a note on the table and many of Harry’s possessions gone. Those remaining felt like a collective punch in the face: his beloved coffee-maker left in the kitchen, our framed holiday photo on his desk, the carefully chosen birthday slippers abandoned by the bed.

I was too shocked to cry, sitting in numb passivity until the sound of the intercom buzzer jolted me into life. Matty was brought home by a classmate’s brisk mother — Hi Julia, can’t stop, Matty’s been fine, see you soon — who hurried back downstairs before she had time to notice the blank bewilderment on my face.

Matty ran inside the flat waving a model car. ‘I want to show this to Daddy! When will he be home?’

At that point the full weight of realisation slammed into me and I sat down again with a thud. Not only had I been left, but so had my son.

The next evening I pored over a calculator to work out the number of days until Matty would be old enough to finish school and leave home. It wasn’t that I wanted him to go, you understand, but I was terrified at the prospect of being solely responsible for my child. I already knew Harry wouldn’t come back.

Eventually Matty stopped asking when his daddy would return, once he understood my unspoken resolve not to discuss it. I’d informed his class teacher by way of a terse note, loathe to speak to her in person as I suspected my emotions would take over and I’d dissolve messily into tears.

So there I was. Julia Mason, 37, single mother, with no job and no future. Harry hadn’t wanted me to go back to work after Matty was born as he’d relished having a homemaker type of mum and was keen for me to be one too. I tried weakly to explain how we needed the money but, to be honest, I didn’t particularly want to go back to teaching at a tough primary in Harlesden.

Harry earned enough as an architect to pay the mortgage on our flat, and I allowed myself to be taken in by the illusion of learning to bake perfectly and walking Matty to and from school in sunshine. The reality, of course, was a letdown. My cakes were never as good as the pictures in the books, while the novelty of the twice-daily trek to school lost its appeal with the onset of winter.

Many of the mothers I met there were intimidating in their designer gear, cheeks flawless with foundation and blusher, whereas I’d turn up shiny-faced in jeans wearing a mere flick of eyeliner. Harry used to say he preferred me with no make-up, that I was too pretty to need it, but then gradually he stopped making comments about my appearance.

Come to think of it, towards the end I don’t think he really looked at me at all.

CAROLINE

Yes, of course I remember how I met Julia. On the day our kids started nursery I was outside chatting with my pal Vick when I noticed this tall blonde with spiky hair and cut-off denims. My immediate reaction was to think she looked like a Scandinavian tennis player and then, almost simultaneously, how much Lee would fancy her.

But that didn’t put me off. I kept hoping our paths would cross and we’d get to be friends. Quite soon it happened, when her little boy hit my daughter and she came to find me after nursery to apologise. From that minute we got on, and I was right about Lee fancying her. He thought she was marvellous. And so did Daniel, Vick’s husband, but I shouldn’t say any more about that because of what happened with him and Julia.

She’d probably always been the kind of woman who attracted stares. Not that she ever sought attention, and that explains her appeal; she was unselfconscious about being so lovely, though after Harry left she lost all confidence in how she looked. I remember her saying nobody else would want her and I told her not to be daft, they’d be queuing up at the door. She just cried.

Vick and I couldn’t believe Harry had gone for good. We kept telling her he’d come back, he must be depressed, but she showed us the note and then we believed it. He’d written a terse little message saying he’d got a transfer to an architects’ practice in the West Country and was going to live a simpler life with less pressure. No apology, no explanation and no mention of the woman who we later found out was sharing his new home. Bastard.

Julia was about as cut up as anybody could be. At first she was stunned and quiet, carrying on as usual, so Vick and I thought she was handling it all. Then a couple of weeks later reality must have sunk in and she fell to pieces. Poor Matty didn’t understand what was going on; first his dad wasn’t around any more, then his mum was lying on the sofa and crying all the time.

Vick’s son, Aaron, was Matty’s best mate. Their birthdays were a few days apart, they loved all the same things, and Vick had sleepovers for them a couple of nights a week. Other times I’d have Julia and Matty round for tea. Every evening Vick or I would make sure one of us had spoken to her, just to check she was coping and Matty was OK.

When the worst of the shock died down, she told us we’d saved her life. Of course we hadn’t; we acted how any good friends would in that situation. Lee and Daniel were happy to pop round and help with practical things that needed sorting, like when her shower had a problem or when the window in Matty’s room started leaking. Between the four of us we felt we were really looking after her.

What we hadn’t bargained for was the arrival of someone like Brendan.

JULIA

You could say I got used to Matty and me being on our own. As the weeks and months passed by I was starting to think maybe, just maybe, I could do this. There were still evenings when I cried myself to sleep, nights when I woke up staring at the digits of the clock and wondering why they always showed 3:03. Once I was awake it was impossible to get back to sleep and the silence of my room became oppressive, even frightening.

I considered getting a dog but was worried I’d forget to feed it or it might go off to find a new owner. In my darker moments I thought about the horror of being on my own for the rest of my life — but I never thought of doing anything stupid. I could never have left Matty.

Harry got in touch occasionally, always by email. And he never came to see us. That may sound cruel, but he rationalised it by saying he didn’t want to upset Matty by turning up and then leaving again — he thought it would make things worse. Maybe he was right, or perhaps it was an excuse. Who knows? I discussed it at length with Vick and Caroline and they were appalled at the way Harry had so effortlessly moved on.

Matty seemed to be coping but at times I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. He immersed himself in activities with a Playmobil fort which 18 months earlier he’d rejected as too babyish. I’d hear him muttering to the tiny soldiers, telling them they would have to be punished. I found some hidden in the laundry basket, others inside a kitchen cupboard. When I questioned him, he looked at me with his green eyes — so like Harry’s that it hurt — and whispered: ‘They were bad.’

Often he’d play happily with Aaron, the two of them absorbed in some complicated game, and it would feel like nothing had changed. Meanwhile I’d hunch over my laptop at the kitchen table, searching for jobs. Vick and Caroline tried to help me focus on what sort of thing I wanted but my self-confidence was so battered that I couldn’t imagine anyone employing me.

My only real focus was Matty. Weekdays revolved around getting him ready for school, waving him off into the playground with a pang of loss and relief which marked the moment of separation — relief we’d got there on time, but loss at being without him for several hours. Yes, it sounds feeble and as if I was depending on my son for my existence. I was doing exactly that.

Where were Matty’s grandparents in all this? Good question. Harry’s mum and dad seemed so taken aback at his disloyalty that they dealt with the subject by ignoring it, and us. I had a couple of phone calls from them after he left, but not much else. They’d moved to Spain — somewhere full of expats, south of Barcelona — several years ago and weren’t ever much involved with us as a family, anyway. I think they only saw Matty three or four times before they emigrated.

As for my mother, I think self-absorbed is an apt description. She divorced my gentle father 20 years ago — the stress of events at the time proved too much for their marriage — and had a succession of male friends ever after. Before Harry left she’d met a new one called Roger and had told me their plans to go travelling. When I commented that it was usually what teenagers did on a gap year, she accused me of being boring and abruptly ended the phone call.

The upshot was that I felt orphaned, with no family support. Never had I wished so much for a strong brother who would confront Harry and make him realise the enormity of what he’d done, make him return home. Or a sister who would hold my hand while I cried, help look after Matty, reassure me there was a life out there.

I was immeasurably grateful to Vick and Caroline because without them I’d have been alone — just me, Matty and my laptop. Then, one drizzly June evening, the laptop gave up on me.

CHAPTER 2

CAROLINE

What was my initial reaction to hearing about Brendan? It’s easy to say now, but I was suspicious from the start. Julia told me how she’d phoned this chap to ask for advice on mending her computer and miraculously he’d offered to come round to the flat within half an hour.

Actually, Vick and I were happy for her to find some additional help as it meant she wouldn’t have to keep relying on Lee and Daniel. To be fair, they were our husbands and they had more than enough to do without running off to Julia’s all the time. One of them would invariably go round every time she called, almost as if they were vying to show who could be more helpful.

And I suppose that was my main worry with this Brendan guy; Julia being so unaware of the effect she had on people. As I said, I was drawn to her straight away and she tended to do that with everyone, not just men. At school some of the no-hoper mums tried to befriend her, though not successfully of course. Vick and I made sure of that. She was our mate, not theirs.

Maybe it’s because she got together with Harry so young, but Julia always seemed kind of innocent, a bit unworldly. Despite everything she remained a trusting sort of person whereas Vick and I tended to be cynical and suspicious until proved otherwise. We’re true Londoners, and Julia was essentially a country girl who happened to live in the big city.

So when I heard about this Brendan my immediate response was: What’s he after?

JULIA

I couldn’t believe it when the computer stopped working. I almost threw it across the room, I was so frustrated and pissed off — how would I fill in complicated job applications on my phone? — but I had no idea how to fix it. Harry used to deal with that sort of thing. I’m not technically minded, and neither was he really, but he always had an idea what was wrong and if he couldn’t fix the problem he’d get one of the IT guys at his office to have a look.

Firstly I rang Vick to see if Daniel could help but she said he was away for a few days and I should try Lee. When I spoke to Caroline she told me Lee was working late shifts and wouldn’t be free to come over until the weekend. It’s strange to realise now that, if one of them had been home that evening, my life wouldn’t have gone careering off in the way it did.

I was desperate to get the laptop fixed. Ideally I’d have binned it and bought myself an iPad, but I was worried about money. Harry was paying the mortgage and hadn’t closed our joint account but every month I saw a large chunk going out, presumably to fund his new lifestyle. There was enough left to buy the basics for me and Matty, and to pay the bills, but not much else. Hence my looking for work. Hence my needing a computer.

So I found one of those local freebie papers, crossing my fingers as I searched for a relevant advertisement. On the last page but one I spotted a small box headed HELP WITH I.T. NEEDED?, the name Fixit and a phone number. I felt glum as I dialled, wondering how much they’d rip me off for, how long I’d have to wait, whether I’d have to take it there or —

‘Hello, Fixit, can I help?’

I was taken aback by a soft Irish accent. For some reason I’d been expecting to hear someone brasher, but this man’s voice sounded soothing.

‘I’ve got a problem with my computer.’ Saying this out loud made me want to weep. For a second I thought I’d be unable to stop myself crying — how humiliating would that have been? — but I managed to hold it back though I’m sure my voice cracked a little and betrayed me.

‘That’s OK, it’s what I’m here for.’ His kindness was exactly what I needed. Someone to come and sort things out for me. I felt a gratitude quite out of proportion to what he’d actually said.

‘Great.’ Now my own voice sounded stronger and more positive. ‘What happens — do I have to bring it to you, or can you come here some time? I’m in Wandsworth – ‘

‘No problem. I’m in Tooting. I can be with you in half an hour if that’s convenient? Just tell me where you are and I’ll find it on my GPS.’ I was surprised but delighted. He didn’t seem to be asking a question, merely telling me what would happen.

I gave him the address, thanked him and put down the phone, wondering if I should tidy up before he arrived. Stupidly, I hadn’t asked his name. Caroline and Vick would be angry, saying I was neglecting my personal safety, letting a stranger into my house — and they might have had a point.

I quickly made another call. ‘Caro, just to let you know there’s a guy coming here shortly to fix my laptop. I don’t know his name but the advert says Fixit and his number is 0778— ’

Disapproval rang clear in her voice as she interrupted me. ‘Jules, you can’t just go letting strangers into your flat, you know. He might be a psycho.’

I smiled to myself. Caro suspected everyone of ulterior motives. ‘I doubt he’d be advertising in the local freebie in that case. Listen, are you free tomorrow? I thought we’d take the kids to the playground after school, then Rachel can have some pasta here with Matty...’

Arrangements made, I rang off, thankful as always to have the stability of my friends and their families in my life. Even though my own family unit was so insubstantial, I had the reassurance of this extended group around me as a solid presence.

I tidied a few things that were lying around, apprehensive at the prospect of a man visiting the flat. Daniel and Lee were often there, though so familiar to me that they barely counted. Suddenly I was aware of how everything looked, including myself. I fluffed up my hair, rubbed under my eyes — I tended to leave one application of smudgy eyeliner on all day — and put on a hint of lip gloss. I wasn’t trying to impress the Irishman, just wanting him not to be dismayed by what he saw.

As the intercom buzzer sounded I moved quickly to answer it, hoping it wouldn’t wake Matty. He’d become a much lighter sleeper since Harry left and in the evenings I tried to keep noise in the flat to a minimum. Luckily our road was fairly quiet and the sound of traffic outside didn’t bother him unless a siren passed, which he always found terrifying.

It was the same Irish voice — ‘Hi, I’m here about your laptop’ — and I pressed the button to let him in the building. Then I opened my own front door, waiting for him to come upstairs.

My first sight of Brendan wasn’t a moment I could describe as heart-stopping or lightning-striking. Nothing like that. He looked a perfectly pleasant man, about my age, with brown hair, blue shirt and a friendly smile.

That’s how he presented himself to the world.

CAROLINE

She phoned me the morning after he was there. Told me how kind this man Brendan had been and how quickly he fixed the computer; then she offered him coffee and he said he’d love a beer if she had one. I didn’t like the sound of that. He was being paid to be there. I was tempted to say Overstepping the mark, but I didn’t want to spoil Julia’s good mood.

She sounded as relaxed and breezy as she used to in the old days and I wanted her to be happy. So I kept quiet.

JULIA

I remember telling Caro it was the nicest evening I’d had since way before Harry left. In the months leading up to his departure he’d been subdued and unreachable; although I tried to get him to tell me what was wrong he hadn’t wanted to, or couldn’t. Knowing what I know now — that he was sorting out his job transfer, finding a house to rent, sleeping with another woman — it’s not surprising.

So that evening was a revelation, and all the better for being unplanned. Enjoying some male company, knowing Matty was safely asleep in the next room, having a laugh and a glass of wine — it was such a relief. All the months of stress and loneliness were temporarily wiped out and, for the first time I could remember, I felt normal again.

He’d shaken my hand and introduced himself as soon as he came in. Brendan Baker. I explained the problem with the computer and he sat at the kitchen table, pressed a load of keys and told me what was wrong within five minutes. I was embarrassed at calling him out as if for an urgent medical matter, but I’d panicked because one of my links to the outside — where the proper people lived — had gone. I felt incomplete enough as it was.

When I offered Brendan a drink I’d meant coffee, but he asked if there was beer and there wasn’t any so I opened my only bottle of wine. Then we sat and chatted for ages. Vick and Caroline always complained about me treating perfect strangers like old friends, and with Brendan I felt able to talk openly about my situation with Harry. It never struck me not to tell him. He was interested.

And when I heard the faint dripping that became a loud rushing sound, it didn’t seem so terrible. I thought: Brendan’s here, he’ll sort it out — and he did. He found a dodgy fitting in the boiler and stemmed the leak, saying it was a simple job and he’d come back tomorrow with a new part.

The relief, the sense of being saved — it was like leaping out of a window and landing on a big squashy mattress. I can’t put into words how simple it was to accept his help unquestioningly.

Of course it was easy, when it was already too late, for Caroline and Vick to tell me I should have been more careful, should have let him into my life more slowly — but with the benefit of hindsight we all could do things a different way.

I was grateful. I wanted his support. I needed a sense of being protected. Was that so wrong?

CAROLINE

When I heard she’d seen him the next day too; that he’d come back with some part to fix her boiler, I got extra suspicious. I rang Vick to discuss it, and she was more measured. She said we should let Julia get on with her life; that it wasn’t our business unless this guy happened to be a scammer in which case we should step in. If she liked him and he liked her, why was it any different from meeting someone online or in a bar?

Fair point, I suppose, but I was still worried. Couldn’t put my finger on it; I just didn’t like the sound of how quickly the chap seemed to be making himself indispensable. Was I jealous? I suppose that was a possibility, but to be honest I don’t think so. I adored Julia — I still do — but I wasn’t possessive of her like that. We were very close but there was no sense of ownership in our affection for each other.

Vick told us once how she’d befriended a fellow new mother in hospital after Aaron was born. They got together with their babies a few times before the woman started virtually stalking Vick: phoning up and leaving messages, wanting to know who she was with, what they’d talked about and why she hadn’t been invited. Once, Daniel found her in the garden, peering through the window. Luckily the bunny boiler’s husband got a new job and they moved house; shortly afterwards I met Vick in the doctor’s and we’ve been close mates ever since.

Anyway, Julia phoned me at lunchtime and said Brendan had been round that morning with the part for her boiler. She’d invited him for supper the next day to say thank you. When I told Lee he looked sceptical. Said the bloke was probably hoping for a leg-over. I was more worried about his intentions towards Matty; suppose he’d seen the photos in the flat and was some sort of paedophile? Matty’s a gorgeous little boy.

But I tried to sound encouraging and pleased for her. Didn’t want to sound like a total wet blanket, even if I did harbour suspicions and doubts. As Julia had pointed out, this Brendan didn’t mind people knowing who he was, with his advert in the local freebie, so at least we had his details if there were any problems.

Rang Vick again and she agreed with me; we should keep an eye on what Julia was up to. Give our advice if we thought she needed it, but keep out if she was happy and it was going well. The last thing either of us wanted was for her to think we were interfering.

JULIA

When Brendan came back the next morning and fixed the boiler I could have kissed him with gratitude but didn’t want him to think I was a desperate single woman who’d throw herself at the first passing male. I might